


There's Harshness In Your Voice And Softness In Your Hands

by Damatris



Series: A song you know's begun [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Concussions, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Now with the silly song about the Mud Wolf, OR IS IT, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, jaskier is in love, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damatris/pseuds/Damatris
Summary: Jaskier was used to being pelted with various objects by dissatisfied audiences so he didn't think anything about stepping between something flying and the Witcher's retreating back.Until blinding pain hit him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: A song you know's begun [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660609
Comments: 124
Kudos: 1794





	1. Chapter 1

"Are we there yet?" Jaskier asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well the town was only ten minute walk away. Exasperated sigh was his only response, just as he predicted.

"I do hope I have enough time to turn your newest valiant fight into an epic tale. Spinning a song out of a mud covered Witcher and his battle with an overgrown worm might be impossible for a lesser bard but I'm sure I can manage," he continued, taking maybe slightly too much joy out of having stayed spotless while Geralt looked like he had rolled on wet ground for a good while. Which wasn't too far from the truth. 

For once the hunt had been more of an annoyance than life threatening. Geralt had been hired to take care of an unidentified monster wreaking havoc on the soft soil of nearby fields, threatening the crops. 

Turned out the monster was a sizable worm like creature with thick ridged skin and countless teeth similar to sharp picks in a gaping maw. Which could have been deadly if its anatomy didn't require one to stick an arm inside the mouth to be bitten. But it had been strong, squirmy and eager to burrow away forcing Geralt to drag it out of the ground with both hands more than once. It ended up more of a wrestling match than a fight before he had been able to skewer the monster with his sword. 

Jaskier had been happy to offer gleeful advice and encouragement from a safe distance where flying muck couldn't reach his silk doublet. 

"Really, it would make for a good ditty, something to hum while working the fields," the bard continued, demonstrating a bright tune. 

"Don't," Geralt said blankly, dragging the monster's corpse. Mud was starting to flake off his face and armor leaving dusty residue. He would have to give it a throughout cleaning later. Having caked mud in armor joints could only lead to discomfort and possibility of something jamming. 

"We'll see," Jaskier said and kept humming until they reached their destination. 

Calling it a town might be slightly generous but it was a lively place. During the day there had been a sizable crowd of customers and sellers in the town square, children playing and general bustle of people hurrying on their errands. Even now in the twilight hours there were people walking around giving them looks ranging from disgust to fear to bafflement. Which Jaskier thought was fair enough considering a bloody carcass was being dragged by an extremely filthy Witcher down their streets. 

He too would have stopped to stare at such a spectacle once upon a time. Nowadays he just witnessed the hunting of the dangerous creatures instead. 

Few minutes later they separated. Geralt was off to present the proof of the completed mission to the magistrate and collect his fee while Jaskier continued to the inn they were staying at. He had a promise to keep to the owner. Not that it was any sort of a hardship. He would have performed anyway but getting free meals for both of them was a very welcome bonus.

The inn's tavern with its warmth and amiable atmosphere was a welcome change from the cooling evening. Conversations and laughter, clinking of drinks being drank and dinners being eaten filled the space with familiar sounds. It had been far too long since the last time they had stayed somewhere nice Jaskier decided. Adjusting his lute he headed toward the bar to talk with the owner. 

"Hello again!" Jaskier greeted placing a coin on the counter. "Could you draw a bath in about thirty minutes or so? Not for me, don't worry. I'm ready to sing until everyone here is full of good cheer and good ale!" he ended with a wink. 

"That might take quite the while knowing these folks," Oscar, a tall broad man chuckled. Noticing the lack of a looming presence he asked "Bath's for the Witcher then?" 

"Absolutely! You should and will see the state he landed himself. So easy to mistake for something that crawled out of a swamp and rolled in dirt for good measure. If you hadn't already seen him, you'd swear his hair is black and skin grey. Thankfully the same fate didn't befall me," Jaskier gestured to his clothes. "Now _that_ would have been a tragedy." 

"Plenty of water needed then." Oscar nodded to himself, moving toward a patron looking for a drink. "I'll have it ready for him." 

Jaskier gave a small playful bow and twirled around to spot a good place to stash his lute case. 

This evening had blessed him with an appreciative audience, Jaskier mused happily. He had begun with true crowd pleasers, jaunty songs that each and everyone knew, to draw the attention and set a jovial mood before moving to his original pieces bridging the change with _Toss A Coin_. It truly was a great trademark and transition song with addition of people usually complying with the lyrics and handing out money. Sure, there always were some grumblers who would prefer anything over having to hear about the White Wolf in a positive light but you never could please everyone. No matter how much he would like to. 

Jaskier had started on the third song detailing a hunt he had witnessed when the Witcher of the tale entered the tavern drawing all eyes and causing murmur. 

"Your bard really wasn't exaggerating much," Oscar noted behind the bar with a wry smile. "There's a warm bath waiting for you upstairs. I'd make haste if I were you." 

Geralt nodded his acknowledgment while taking a sweeping look at the tavern. Spotting Jaskier near the stairs leading up to the second floor he locked eyes with him for a moment before starting in that direction. While Jaskier's performance hadn't faltered even for a second it was clear he was laughing internally at Geralt's appearance. His blue eyes were sparkling with mirth as he took stock of the stiff hair and dust falling with every step. 

Walking past him to the stairs Geralt grunted something that was both a thank you and a warning. Jaskier felt quite proud of how well he had learned the meanings of the various hmms and wordless grunts Geralt seemed so overly fond of. 

"Filthy fucking mutant!" 

Jaskier was used to being pelted with various objects by dissatisfied audiences so he didn't think anything about stepping between something flying and the Witcher's retreating back.

Until blinding pain hit him.

On a reflex Jaskier threw his arms in front of himself trying to ensure the safety of his lute as he was knocked down on his back. Trying to draw air back into his deflated lungs and focus on anything outside of the ringing in his ears, he vaguely registered a dark shape jumping over him with a curse. 

It might have been a year or it might have been a second before a large hand shook his shoulder. 

"Damn it Jaskier, breath!" 

Ah, yes. He knew that voice. He should probably answer. 

"...G'r'lt..." not the most eloquent but passable. It was kind of hard to force words out when you had to think about breathing. Maybe he should go back to practicing basics if saying one word clearly took that much air. How had he ever sang possessing such a horrendous breathing technique? 

"Look at me." 

But he already was? Oh, wait. That darkness wasn't Geralt's black armor. He just had his eyes closed. But who was he to deny the chance of looking at Geralt's eyes? They were so beautiful after all. With herculean task he blinked and, behold, those molten yellow eyes were intensely staring at his. Such perfection surrounded by dancing stars. 

"Can you sit up?" 

Should be simple enough but he would need his hands. And they were... 

"M' lute...?" 

"Of fucking course you would worry about your lute. You're clutching it." 

Ah. Good. Everything was fine in that case. Case. Where was his lute case? No, he had put it down before performing. Should be safe. Even if he couldn't recall where it was. Maybe he could ask Geralt. He could just- 

"Sniff 'nd find" it with his strange strange Witcher senses. Seemed like a good plan. Geralt would know the scent. 

"What the everlasting fuck Jaskier? How hard did that tankard hit your head?" 

But tankards weren't for hitting? Why would he have…? Ah. Yes. He must have stepped in front of it now that he thought about it. Still, who would throw one? If you wanted to throw something at a person then-

"Coins ar' good, bre'd okay." 

"That's it. I'm taking him to our room." 

Jaskier had never realized he could levitate but suddenly he wasn't on the floor anymore. It felt much more safe and warm than he would have thought. And weirdly dusty. Also, Geralt's face was very close. Very, very close. So very close. It was distracting him from the experience. It was unfair how-

"Handsome." Geralt was. Robbing him the chance of experiencing flight. The bastard. 

"If you mumble nonsense then you can just shut up." 

Rude. 

Shit, Jaskier thought. He wasn't levitating anymore. He had missed his chance of enjoying it. Suddenly also the warmth and Geralt's face were gone. No, there was Geralt again. But why wasn't his hair white? It was even in the name. The White Wolf. Not-

"The Mud Wolf." 

"Really Jaskier? Not even coherent and you make insults?" 

Geralt was an insult. With his pretty eyes and pretty lips and strong arms. Arms…? Maybe Jaskier didn't know how to levitate after all. Maybe Geralt-

"Carried me?" Huh. That would have been even better to register than levitating. If he asked would Geralt do it again while hiding his stupid good looking face? No, probably not. 

"Yes." 

He would? Wait, no. It was an affirmation for being carried, Jaskier realized with disappointment. He was prevented from brooding by something wet and stinging touching his forehead. He wanted it to- 

"Stop. Hurts." 

"Stay still. I need to clean this." 

Geralt was the one who had wrestled a worm, not him. Heh, that's why he was The Mud Wolf! Didn't explain why his forehead needed cleaning though. Jaskier took a deep breath and tried to focus. Worm, tavern, performing, Geralt coming in. Then it got fuzzy. But hadn't there been a mention of a- 

"Tankard. I got hit by a tankard?" 

"Finally. Yes Jaskier, you were an absolute idiot and stepped in its path." A relieved sigh passed Geralt's lips. 

"You were already in its path," Jaskier accused him wincing against a new stab of pain. Geralt should be thankful. Who knew that an overglorified cup could hurt this much? 

"I was the target. It would have hit my back. While wearing an armor. If I hadn't caught it first."

"..." Jaskier blamed his lack of a comeback on concussion. Having one would explain everything. "Please don't say a child threw it and managed to knock me out." 

There was an amused huff. "No, it was an adult. One that has a far worse headache." 

"They managed this while concus-? You gave them one!" Jaskier crowed pleased with his returning mental skills. "Ooh, I wish I could have seen it. I hope they lost a lot of teeth! And have a broken nose." 

"Probably, didn't check. I had more important things to do," Geralt answered prodding Jaskier's head. It didn't look too bad now that the blood was gone. An ugly bruise was quickly forming on a sizeable bump but the cut wasn't long or deep. Shouldn't even leave a scar. Head wounds just bled like a bitch as Geralt knew from personal experience. 

"I'm important?" Jaskier breathed with wide eyes and hanging mouth. 

Of course. That would be his take away, Geralt thought. Not that he was wrong but… 

"Hmmm." 

"Dear Melitele, am I hallucinating?" Jaskier whispered lifting his arm to cup Geralt's cheek. And would have promptly poked him in the eye if Geralt hadn't snatched his hand. 

"Geralt of Rivia admitting to care about someone? This must be a first!" a familiar sparkle was returning to Jaskier's pinched eyes. He moved their interlocked hands to take a better look. It wasn't particularly romantic with Geralt holding his wrist but Jaskier would take it. 

Just as the thought crossed his mind Geralt let go and his arm flopped bonelessly back on the bed. He didn't remember his hands weighting that much. Weird. Combined with his lute he must have far more strength than he had guessed to be able to play for whole nights with no problem. 

"Geralt, where's my lute?" Jaskier suddenly panicked trying to get up to look for it. He was screwed if someone had stolen or, god forbid, broken it. All he got for his attempt was splitting pain. 

"Your priorities are fucked up," Geralt stated picking a potion and bandage out of his bag. "It's in the corner. Oscar brought it with the case." 

"Excuse me! It's my tool of trade, my life line and…" Jaskier trailed off frowning. 

"I'll finish that after I've slept," he sniffed radiating offense. 

"You do that. Now, stay still," Geralt drawled. Swiping the cut one last time he covered it with gauze. 

It might not be strictly necessary but he was quite sure Jaskier would tear it open at least few times with his animated expressions. And, it made him feel slightly better if he was honest. Realizing the bard had purposefully stepped in front of him and crumpled down like a sack of potatoes had been shocking. Just thinking about it made him want to tear the culprit apart piece by piece. 

What in the world had driven Jaskier to do it was a mystery. He should be perfectly aware a flying mug was no danger for a Witcher. 

"Drink," Geralt ordered shoving the potion toward Jaskier. 

Jaskier did make a valiant effort to take the potion but kept missing the mark until Geralt placed it in his hand with an exasperated sigh. Shakily he drank the concoction without hesitation until the bottle was empty, Geralt helping him lift his head enough not to choke.

"Wait. What was that? You always go on and on how your strange Witcher potions are not for us weak fragile humans. You wouldn't poison me after all this time, right? Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly worried. 

"If I wanted you dead I'd have killed you long ago. And not with poison," Geralt answered blankly. 

"It's just painkiller. You can sleep now. I'll keep waking you up to make sure last of your brain cells didn't rattle loose," he continued lifting the blanket for Jaskier to wrap it around himself. 

"That's offensive. I'll let you know I have plenty of commonsense…" Jaskier protested weakly eyelids fluttering. 

"Sure. As much as a toddler," Geralt granted. Softer, he prompted Jaskier to close his eyes. "Sleep. You'll feel better after." 

"... Uh-huh…" came the eloquent answer. Just before he succumbed to his exhaustion, Jaskier could have sworn he felt gentle hand carding through his hair. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing will stop Jaskier from composing that ditty and we all know it.

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Where have you been?  
Dirty paws and coat so grey

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
What have you done?  
Field's only pits and holes

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
What have you brought?  
Such a mighty beast and foe

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Wrestled with a worm  
Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Almost bested by a worm

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
You were white  
I could have sworn

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Wrestled with a worm  
Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Almost bested by a worm

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Where are you going?  
Bath is the other way, the other way

Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf  
Turn around, turn around  
Bath is the other way, the other way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... Hmmm... Yeah... This is what happens when I can't sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a tankard at your Bard.
> 
> I had far too much fun with this. :'D


End file.
